


Age is More Than Time

by wolfelements



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Technology, Big Blue Anime Eyes of Doom, De-Aged Carson Beckett, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Scottish doctors should not be five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfelements/pseuds/wolfelements
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t worry, he’s still one-hundred percent Carson,” McKay was quick to say. “His brain is still that of an adult or so it appears. His body just isn’t.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Age is More Than Time

Ronon had been in the middle of his recently discovered favorite activity when Carson made a sound of annoyance and pulled his head away, effectively separating their mouths. He tried to press in closer, but Carson simply placed his hand against Ronon’s chest and turned his head to the side. He made a point to shift his hips forward in the mere fraction of an inch that separated them regardless, which caused Carson to grunt in shock, blue eyes wide.

“Ronon,” Carson said in warning, before tapping his radio. “Beckett here.” The expression of exasperation on the doctor’s face told Ronon that McKay was on the other line. “Why can’t you bring it here? …Alright. I’ll be down in a moment.”

“You’re on break,” Ronon pointed out. He knew for a fact that Carson was on break, because Ronon had developed the habit of visiting him every day at the same time. Carson had had no choice but to claim that thirty minutes as his break time.

“Rodney found some sort of medical equipment in one of the recently opened labs,” Carson explained. “He said it’s reading off a bunch of medical jargon and it’s too delicate to bring to the infirmary.”

“It’s not an emergency. You’re on break,” Ronon repeated.

Carson gave him a look. “If I let it sit, do you really think Rodney will be capable of not playing with it? If I go now I can head off whatever emergency he will create.”

Carson gathered some of his tools, small Ancient bits of technology that Ronon didn’t really know the use of, and started for the door. He paused halfway there and glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised and a dimple showing. “Are you coming?”

“Doesn’t sound very fun,” Ronon commented, despite the fact that he started following Carson out of the room.

“You’ll get to hear me and Rodney bicker,” Carson replied, shooting him a smile that had taken him four weeks to realize was flirtatious. “I know you like that.”

“I like your voice,” he said, because in the end that was why Ronon enjoyed hearing Carson bicker with anyone. Carson was one of the few men that Ronon knew who could tell someone they were wrong and explain why without being insulting. McKay certainly couldn’t manage that and, if Ronon thought about it, neither could Sheppard. 

They made it to the lab quickly, though the way McKay complained one would think that it had taken them the entire month. There was a thin piece of metal sticking up out of the floor, surrounded by various geeks and their computers. Out of the metal sprung four vine-like structures made of a material Ronon couldn’t identify. 

To be honest, while the scientists seemed excited, Ronon had to admit that the whole thing was kind of boring. So, when McKay rushed over with his laptop to show Carson his readings, Ronon shuffled over to Sheppard’s side and leaned against one of the desks. They stood in silence, watching over the smartest people in the galaxy, until finally Sheppard started glancing at him. Ronon made him wait a few minutes more before grunting, “What?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the infirmary,” Sheppard commented.

Ronon shrugged. 

“Right, none of my business,” Sheppard agreed.

And then Carson started screaming in pain.

*

The problem was that outside of a battle scenario, Ronon actually felt kind of useless. All he could do was hover just out of sight as the medical team strapped Carson down to keep the man from clawing his own skin off. He could see, even from the distance he stood at, the blood that stained Carson’s pale skin from where the doctor had immediately began to rub and scratch seconds after the screaming had started.

Carson had screamed himself hoarse about thirty minutes ago. Ronon never wanted to hear that sound again, but the small whimpers were almost worse. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Ronon demanded, turning to where McKay was hunched over his laptop, frantically stabbing at the touch-screen. 

“I don’t know,” McKay snapped, not bothering to look up. “The device wasn’t even fully turned on. Nothing should have happened when he touched it. I touched it and nothing happened! He should have been fine.”

“He’s not,” Ronon pointed out for lack of anything better to do or say. 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” McKay insisted, standing up in order to pace the small space the hallway provided. “Even the Colonel touched the device. If it was going to work on anyone, it should have been him.”

He stood there, watching and waiting. There was nothing else he could really do. He turned back to peer in through the doorway, watching as one of the other doctors scanned Carson again and again with various Ancient equipment. They were all talking to each other, speaking words that had no real meaning to Ronon. He understood the gist of it. They had no idea what was wrong with Carson Beckett.

Knowing there was nothing he could do, Ronon turned on his heel and stalked out of the infirmary. A part of him wondered if that made him a bad lover, that he was leaving Carson there to be held down by harsh material and to lose himself in his own head from whatever pain he was experiencing. The majority understood that he was no real help and would only get in the way. He was a fighter and hunter and right then he couldn’t hurt the one thing that was causing harm to what he considered his.

So he went to cause harm to something else, just to ensure that all of the anger and frustration he could slowly feel build on the inside didn’t spill over. The last thing Atlantis needed was Ronon Dex losing control, especially when the one thing guaranteed to calm him was trapped on an infirmary bed.

*

Ronon couldn’t say when he had first looked at Carson Beckett and thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted the man for himself. It had happened slowly. That was how Ronon usually did things out of battle, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when it had happened with Carson.

At first it had been an attempt to catch those fleeting memories that he had forced himself to forget while running. Carson, while fully male, reminded him of Melena in the way he was always looking for someone to cure, someone to assist, even when he was telling the person off for their own stupidity. It was a nice memory to relive, but it didn’t take long for Ronon to begin to notice all the things about Carson that was different than Melena.

Different, but just as good. 

It was around that time that Carson had started smiling at him and, once the doctor had realized Ronon was going to make a habit of being in the infirmary, using him for manual labor. It took Ronon a while to realize that that was Carson’s way of flirting. From there it was just a matter of getting Carson alone to fully show that he was interested in return.

That had been three months ago. 

*

Ronon returned to the infirmary three hours later when Sheppard had hesitantly arrived in the gym to tell him that Carson was awake and asking for him. He didn’t stop to ask about the look on Sheppard’s face.

“Umm, there’s something you should know before you go in there,” Sheppard told him, following him at a jog. 

Ronon grunted. 

“Yeah, it turns out the device McKay and I found was some kind of physical reversal thing,” Sheppard told him. He reached out and caught Ronon’s arm before Ronon could slip through the infirmary doors. “I don’t even begin to understand exactly what it did, but it made him…”

Ronon narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Sheppard bit his lip and gave him a look that clearly showed how lost the man felt. “He’s a kid, Ronon. He’s Carson and has all of his memories, but—“

“He’s got the body of a five year old, we think,” McKay interrupted, looking drained and like the entire thing was his own fault. It was a unique expression that Ronon noticed only appeared when the people McKay truly cared for got hurt. McKay shuffled over and leaned in close, like that alone would keep Sheppard from hearing what he was about to say. “He asked for you the moment he woke up. He’s not really in pain anymore but I think he’s scared, so you should probably go comfort him…if you guys do that sort of thing.”

Ronon wasn’t surprised that McKay knew about their relationship. McKay could be oddly perceptive about things that were meant to be secrets. He was more shocked that McKay hadn’t shared that bit of gossip with Sheppard, who was making a point to be intrigued by a plant in the corner.

“He’s still…” Ronon trailed off, not really sure how to phrase what he wanted to ask.

“Don’t worry, he’s still one-hundred percent Carson,” McKay was quick to say. “His brain is still that of an adult or so it appears. His body just isn’t.”

Ronon nodded and finally moved past McKay into the infirmary. The bed that Carson had been in was now empty, but it was easy to follow the voices of soft speaking nurses to the back of the room where he spotted a small figure curled up on the last bed. He paused barely a foot away, silent as the medical staff took the hint and left. They had all learned long ago the importance of privacy for Ronon and Carson, even in moments like these.

He stepped around the curtain and pulled it closed so it was just him and the small boy peering up at him. The first thing that really registered, aside from the fact that the boy was so small, were the startling blue eyes. They were identical to Carson’s and enough proof to tell Ronon that this wasn’t a joke, not that he thought they’d joke about something like this. 

Carson was swimming in the scrubs they had put him in, even though they were probably the smallest size available. Ronon had no idea how long it would take for Rodney to figure out how to fix this, but he knew the first moment he had available he was getting some child sized clothing from the Athosians, because he already hated seeing Carson look so vulnerable. 

“Hi,” he said softly, sitting down in a convenient bed side chair. “You okay?”

“I…” Carson visibly swallowed, his tiny throat flexing from the effort of the single motion. Small hands reached up to rub at the back of Carson’s neck, just below hair that stood straight up in a way that even Sheppard’s couldn’t manage. When Carson finally managed to speak, Ronon couldn’t help but notice the prominent lisp. That mixed with the accent gave Ronon a strange feeling in his stomach, though he couldn’t identify it. “I don’t remember being this small. Of course, it’s not like I remember being a kid much anyway, let alone what size I was.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Ronon told him, because it was the truth. It had to be the truth.

Carson sniffed and looked away with a defeated sigh. Unable to stand the idea of Carson just giving into hopelessness—for if there was one thing that Ronon loved above all else about Carson, it was that he always had hope—Ronon gave into temptation and stood. He gently shoved the blankets to the side and picked Carson up, who weighed no more than a doll. Settling back onto the bed, Ronon carefully arranged the small body in his arms until Carson was curled up, knees tucked up to his chin and head resting against Ronon’s chest. Another sigh escaped Carson, but this time it was one of contentment.

*

When Weir showed up, Carson had made a point to remain in his lap. Ronon had a feeling it was his small way of showing he was still in control of the situation. They had never been open about their relationship, but Ronon had no doubt that Weir knew about them as easily as McKay did. He knew, and understood, that their lack of public display was more for the military’s benefit than anything. Carson hadn’t bothered to explain the whys and Ronon didn’t feel the need to ask.

It was probably one of those strange Earth rules, anyway.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Weir offered with a smile, looking far too composed for a leader that had just seen proof that her medical doctor was now child sized. 

“Has there been any progress with the machine?” Carson asked, blinking up at them, blue eyes taking up the majority of his face. 

“Well…” McKay said, looking almost devastated, “I just had the terrifying thought that Carson needs to have children due to his current appearance.”

Carson glared, though the effect was clearly lost. 

“Right, to the point,” McKay continued. “The machine is now feeding a large amount of psychological mumbo jumbo into the laptop we hooked it up to. I’m not sure what most of it means, seeing how it’s not real science and therefore not worth true inspection, so I handed it over to Dr. Heightmeyer to see what she could make of it. In the meantime, we’re searching the Ancient database for a, uh, instruction manual.”

“In other words, I’m out of luck for the time being,” Carson surmised with a sigh. “Aside from the few injuries I received from my, err, fit earlier I appear to be in excellent health. Just as I was as a child, if my mother’s stories are anything to go by. That being the case, I don’t see why I can’t get back to work—“

“No,” Ronon interrupted, speaking just as Weir had opened her mouth. He didn’t care if he had interrupted her. He had probably said what she had planned, anyway. “You’re small now. You could get hurt.”

“Ronon does have a point,” Weir said gently. “While I’m sure the Ancients did have children, I can’t be certain that Atlantis is safe for someone of your…size.”

“What are you saying?” Carson demanded. “I might be small, but I’m not an actual child.”

“Yes, but like you said, you’re small. Face it, Carson, it’s the same prognosis you would have given anyone else,” McKay told him, looking mildly smug. Ronon glared at him for Carson, seeing how the doctor’s glare had devolved to full blown adorable status. “We—meaning Elizabeth, the Colonel, and myself—talked it over and we think you should have a babysitter.”

“Excuse me?” Carson sputtered, his small body vibrating in Ronon’s arms with what was probably barely contained rage.

*

It was decided that they would all take shifts. Ronon had subtly managed to ensure that he got Carson the majority of the time, but for the most part it appeared that everyone wanted a chance to spend time with someone that looked like a child. Even McKay, which confused Ronon somewhat as he hadn’t expected McKay to like children. Then he realized that it wasn’t the fact that Carson looked like a kid, it was the fact that it was Carson. 

It made Ronon miss having a best friend. While Sheppard was probably the closest friend he had, the fact that he was also his ranking officer made it nearly impossible for him to view the man as something as close and dear as McKay obviously viewed Carson. Ronon would have been worried if he hadn’t already had had that talk with Carson and had been laughed at for wondering if he should have been jealous.

In the end, Sheppard had the first Carson shift, since Ronon had training duty with the Marines and McKay and Weir both had a general science meeting. Sheppard, apparently, had a lot of free time on his hands for someone that was the head of the military. 

Ronon glanced between Carson, who was struggling to keep his scrubs up, and Sheppard, who had an oddly gleeful expression on his face. “Get him some clothes.”

“Excellent!” Sheppard said with a grin. “That’s the perfect excuse to take Carson to the mainland. Thanks.”

“What?” Carson asked, looking up from where he had been tightening the drawstring of his pants. “I don’t want to go to the mainland!”

“You need clothes,” Sheppard said.

“Colonel—“ Carson began.

“You’re getting pale,” Ronon added, “and the sun gives you vitamins.” Or so Carson had mentioned months ago when Ronon had been trying the ‘teach me something’ route of getting his attention. “It will be good for you and you’ll be back by nightfall. Right?”

“Of course,” Sheppard said quickly. “No need to get protective. We all have Carson’s safety in mind. That and football.”

*

Strangely, things fell into a predictable pattern after that. McKay and his team, along with Dr. Heightmeyer, explored the Ancient device in search of some sort of cure. In the meantime, Sheppard and Ronon took turns ‘watching’ Carson, with McKay occasionally making an appearance when the short scientist that yelled in a funny language kicked him out of the lab to get some rest. Or so that’s how it was for the first few days.

Then Carson started getting tetchy. Sheppard spent most of his time trying to get Carson to play like he was an actual five year old, which Carson didn’t appreciate though he did give in on occasion. Ronon tried to treat Carson like he did before, but he found himself automatically picking Carson up or cuddling with the smaller body in public, subconsciously knowing that with Carson this size he had an excuse to actually show public affection to his lover. 

The first couple of days, Carson took in the attention calmly and with an endearing smile. After four days, he started stiffening every time Ronon picked him up and going silent every time Sheppard came up with a new game for them to play. He started snapping at them and, in general, behaving like a child emotionally.

That was when Weir stepped in and took Carson for a few hours every day and allowed him to actually work, albeit just on a laptop. That calmed Carson down for a while.

*

“He’s being a brat,” McKay said, standing at the end of the infirmary bed and watching as Carson’s arm was bandaged by the nurse. Ronon stood behind her protectively, but chose to say nothing against McKay’s words because the truth was that Carson was leaning towards behavior that wasn’t the norm. Ronon just hadn’t wanted to be the one to say it and was thankful, as he often was shocked to be, for McKay’s lack of tact.

“It was an accident, honest,” Carson insisted, letting his arm drop and staring at McKay with wide, nearly tear-filled eyes. “I didn’t mean to drop your laptop.”

“You didn’t drop it, you threw it,” McKay snapped.

“You try holding things that heavy with such tiny hands!” Carson replied, holding up his hands as visual evidence. 

“You weren’t supposed to be playing with it, anyway!” McKay shot back.

“I was bored!”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to regress mentally?” McKay demanded. 

Carson fell silent and looked down at his hand, tiny fingers picking at the small bandage that was just above his wrist. He let out a small sigh, one that probably would have been inaudible if he were an adult. As a child, it came out loud, clear, and frightfully sad. Ronon shuffled closer, but refrained from touching him. Finally, Carson looked up. “I had a feeling this would happen when they showed me the scans from right after I changed.”

“What do you mean?” McKay asked. “Oh, god, you’re not going to actually turn into a five year old, are you? I don’t like kids. I’m sure you were a nice…boy, but Carson I don’t want to have to deal with you as a kid.”

“Yes, Rodney, thank you for that,” Carson said sarcastically. 

“So, what’s going on?” Ronon asked before McKay could open his mouth and say something that Carson might actually take offense of. Carson had a pretty decent tolerance for McKay’s mouth, but Ronon wasn’t sure how far it would go. Especially with as emotional as he had been lately.

“My brain works just fine, but my body is now producing the hormone levels of a child,” Carson explained.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been acting like—“ McKay paused, as though he were actually reconsidering his words. “—so, you’ve just needed to take a nap or something?”

*

Heightmeyer met with them all nearly two weeks after Carson de-aged. Ronon sat next to Carson, ignoring how long it took the doctor to climb onto the stack of books they had placed on the seat so he could actually see over the table’s edge. He knew if he tried to help, Carson would lecture him about dignity later. He liked hearing Carson talk, but not that much.

Ronon tried to pay attention to all the details coming out of Heightmeyer’s mouth, but he kept getting distracted by Carson’s tiny little fingers typing out notes onto the laptop he had brought with him. He wondered where Carson had gotten it, because last time he checked Carson was only allowed to work when he was in Weir’s office. Finally, Heightmeyer drew her speech to a close and Ronon sighed, mind scanning through what they had just been told.

“So, it’s a form of therapy?” he asked.

“I can assure you that I have no need of therapy and if I did I could easily have access to it,” Carson insisted, looking up and frowning. 

“Forgive me for not understanding, but how does Carson reverting to the physical age of a child work for therapy?” Weir asked.

“This is ridiculous—“ Rodney piped up, before falling silent at the looks everyone sent him.

“It’s literally the Ancients’ version of hypnosis,” Heightmeyer said. “Instead of taking the mind back to the place where the harm occurred, it takes the body back. It really is ingenious. Instead of being mentally and emotionally bombarded with the memory of whatever event occurred, the patient is instead placed in the physical state so that their minds will slowly remember and learn that they are now safe from that harm.”

“But nothing happened to me when I was a child!” Carson protested.

“Perhaps you don’t remember it yet,” Heightmeyer told him. 

“How do we fix it? And why did it affect him, but not McKay or Sheppard when they touched it?” Ronon asked. He could feel Carson radiating tension next to him and reached out his hand and placed it on Carson’s back, not caring if anyone saw the movement.

“I can only speculate and even then what ideas I come to may break patient confidentiality,” Heightmeyer said, glancing at each of them.

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Sheppard said with a shrug.

“Oh please, I’ve accepted how amazingly horrible my childhood was at times,” McKay snapped, fidgeting in his seat and raising his chin in a classic McKay gesture of defiance, “and I’m probably better off for it.”

“That is why,” Heightmeyer said with a slight smile. “Both accept the events in their lives. While they may feel fear or anger or even hate over a particular memory, they do remember it and understand it is part of them. Perhaps Dr. Beckett has a memory that he has blocked or does not wish to accept. This device is meant to help him come to terms with that in a safe environment and to replace the bad with the good by being in the form he was in during that memory.”

“This is all well and good, but I’m not blocking out anything,” Carson said before he slipped off his chair. He reached up and struggled a moment to take hold of his laptop, glaring at Ronon when he offered help. Once he had a good grip on it he made for door, head down.

*

Ronon was watching Carson sleep and wasn't really worried about the other man awakening as he did so. He'd done it before Carson was child size and he'd continue to do so once he was his normal self again. He reached out a hand and trailed the tip of his finger down the slope of Carson's nose, before pulling back to watch him sleep some more.

It was only because of his diligent staring that he noticed the first twitch. He immediately became alert. Carson wasn't the type to move around while sleeping, though if he was having a dream he'd sometimes make noises in the back of his throat. Ronon waited, watching as Carson's small arms jerked, and wasn't surprised when Carson let out a sound of pain. 

Ronon had an intimate knowledge of nightmares. He'd had plenty of them himself, after all. He knew that Carson's nightmare might go away on it's own and Carson would never even know he had one. 

It wasn't until Carson started flailing around and smacked himself in the face that Ronon decided it might be a good idea to wake him. He reached out and gently took hold of Carson's wrists and began rubbing the inside of Carson's arms with his thumb. When Carson merely continued to whimper and cry out in his sleep, Ronon decided to pull out the big guns. “Wake up, Carson. Just a nightmare. McKay insulted your staff again. I think they're going to start a riot.”

Carson's eyes snapped open. Ronon couldn't help but be slightly amused. Even in sleep, Carson was always prepared to do damage control when it came to Rodney McKay.

Carson's large, blue eyes darted around the room for a moment, like he was making sure he knew where he was, before he promptly burst into tears and pressed his face against Ronon's chest. Ronon had to admit that he wasn't entirely sure as to what he should do. Comforting Carson usually meant distracting him, but this time he had a feeling he had to approach this differently. 

“Need to talk?” Ronon grunted, cradling Carson's small body against his. 

“It was just a nightmare,” Carson mumbled.

“Talking about it might help,” Ronon said, before falling silent. If Carson wanted to talk, he'd do it on his own time and not because Ronon tried to get it out of him. 

Carson was silent for what felt like a long time. Ronon occupied the time by running his hand up and down Carson's back in a comforting manner. Finally, Carson pulled back and sniffed. “It was about my dad.”

Ronon nodded encouragingly.

“He died,” Carson whispered. “We were in a car accident when I was five. A truck hit the driver's side door and...I remember a lot of pain and his hand reaching out to press me back in the seat, trying to protect me. I was awake the entire time, even though I hit my head.”

“I'm sorry.”

“He cried,” Carson continued, as though he hadn't heard Ronon speak. “Not loudly, but there were tears and his eyes stayed focused on me. I have his eyes.” Carson fell silent once more and Ronon was content in just holding him. His small hands clutched at Ronon's shirt as he started speaking again. “I watched him die. The ambulance didn't arrive in time. He was dead before they got there.”

Ronon remembered watching people die around him on Sateda, but he had been in the middle of a war. He knew, logically, that his parents had probably died in the same invasion, but he hadn't watched it happen. His mind was capable of creating enough scenarios to frighten him, deep down inside. He couldn't imagine having an actual memory of his father's last breath.

“I haven't thought about that in a very long time,” Carson admitted. “I don't think I've ever really talked about it after the funeral. Am I...?”

“What?” he asked.

“No, it's nothing. It's stupid, actually.”

“Don't believe that,” Ronon said gruffly, looking down at Carson's sad face. “You don't say stupid things very often.”

“Fine,” Carson snapped, before letting out a tired sigh. “I just wonder if maybe...if maybe I'm a bad person for not wanting to remember my father?”

“Is that true? That you don't want to remember him?”

“...No, not exactly. It's just that if I remember him then I'll have to remember my last moment with him. It hurts too much,” Carson replied.

Ronon wasn't sure if his next set of words was a good idea. Carson could sometimes be reactive to things, especially when it even minutely implied that he wasn't handling life very well. “Maybe...you should talk to Heightmeyer.”

Carson stilled and pushed away from him. He rolled over and curled up in a small ball, not saying anything.

“Think about it,” Ronon stated, before laying awake and watching Carson pretend to be asleep.

*

Carson never told him if he went to see Heightmeyer or not, but McKay mentioned seeing him with Dr. Weir outside Heightmeyer's office two days after his nightmare. That was all Ronon needed to know. 

Besides, it was obvious that he was finally working through his problems when Ronon was interrupted mid-training by Sheppard rushing into the gym. “It's Carson!”

Ronon felt a sense of repetition when he set off running down the hallway, making his way to the infirmary with Sheppard hot on his heels. Sheppard was talking, but Ronon couldn't really find it in himself to pay much attention. He just knew he had to get to Carson before something even worse happened to the man. 

He made it just in time to see Carson's small, child-sized body convulsing and screaming. He felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him back even though McKay hardly had the strength to do so. He knew he had to wait until the doctors gave him permission to walk over. He'd just get in the way, because all he wanted at that moment was to pull Carson into his arms and tell him that he loved him with all his heart. 

Ronon hadn't thought he'd be capable of feeling that emotion so deeply, not after seven years of running. But Carson had a habit of turning everything on it's head. 

“He's going to be okay,” McKay insisted, looking nervous as his eyes darted between the curtain hiding Carson and Ronon's stiff stance. “He'll be fine.”

Ronon grunted, refusing to agree or deny. Preparing himself for disappointment was something he'd slowly got out of the habit of since he started living in Atlantis. And hope was something he had yet to let himself truly feel. 

So instead he sat and waited, listening as Carson's screams finally faded until there was no sound at all. 

*

Carson looked the same. No, he didn't look like a child anymore. He was adult-sized, with tired lines near his eyes, which had finally opened in order to looked straight at Ronon. Carson cleared his throat and Ronon quickly handed him a glass of water, one hand hovering as he remembered the time child-sized Carson had spilled his drink. That had resulted in one of Carson's small tantrums, which was always quickly followed by Carson avoiding them all in embarrassment.

“Hello,” Carson greeted, smiling slightly.

“Hey.”

“How long have I been out?” Carson asked.

“A couple of hours,” Ronon replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” Carson relaxed against the pillows. “And dreading all of the work I missed.”

Ronon smirked, those simple words making it clear that Carson was definitely back. “Do you need anything? I could get you some food.”

Carson smiled wider and reached out to take Ronon's hand. “No, this is all I need right now. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I wasn't the only one,” Ronon mumbled. 

“I don't remember Rodney comforting me after nightmares,” Carson pointed out. “You really...amaze me sometimes, Ronon Dex.”

“Yeah, well,” Ronon shrugged. He quickly searched for a change of subject. Being sweet with Carson in private was one thing, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before McKay or Sheppard intruded on them. He didn't want to be in the middle of declaring his affections just to be interrupted. Ronon was perfectly aware that once he started down that line of thought it usually didn't end until someone pissed him off or Carson dragged him to the nearest bed, and Carson didn't exactly look up to sex at the moment. “Are you still going to see Heightmeyer?”

“Unfortunately,” Carson replied with a grimace. “I should have been seeing her all along, what with the stress of my job.”

“Good,” Ronon said. “Nothing wrong with getting a little help. It just shows you're smart.”

“Ronon, I...” Carson stared at him, his face open and filled with too many emotions for Ronon to properly read. “I love you.”

Ronon swallowed and looked down at their joined hands.

“You don't have to say it back,” Carson insisted. “I just wanted to tell you. My brain is kind of fuzzy right now, so I can't really remember if I ever told you before.”

He didn't speak for a long moment. “I sort of, well...”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too,” Ronon said quickly. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of Carson's hand with his thumb. He didn't have to look up to see with bright grin on Carson's face. He could practically feel it.


End file.
